


You are the Light

by NuclearNik



Series: Zutara Drabble December [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Pining, Previous Aang/Katara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27900823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuclearNik/pseuds/NuclearNik
Summary: Katara is forced to confront her feelings for a certain Fire Lord during a conference of world leaders.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Zutara Drabble December [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2039909
Comments: 8
Kudos: 78
Collections: ZK Drabble December 2020





	You are the Light

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 2 of Zutara Drabble December. Prompt: Please don't lie.

_"I love you."_

_"I'll always be here."_

_"You're it for me."_

Pretty words spun like candy floss, delicate and sweet and so easy to tear and melt.

She wants to believe them, wishes and hopes on every star that they aren't lies, but that sense of rightness never comes. She thinks Aang loves the idea of her, but the messy, powerful, faceted truth of who she is simply too much.

He is not unkind, exactly, but things between them grow increasingly tense with each day until they are simply two people operating on their own in the same space.

He doesn't _see_ her, doesn't _know_ her. His pretty words aren't for her but for the image of her he has in his mind. He wants to keep her in the neat little box he's constructed.

It is rough when she ends it. He doesn't understand. He's hurt. Sokka sides with her, of course he does, and it makes things tense for all of them.

They are no longer wild children flying across the world and stuck with each other every minute of every day, but there is still a strangeness in the air when they happen to be in the same place at the same time. It takes time for their friendship—the very thing that Aang and Katara's entire relationship has been built upon—to regrow around the cracks of their failed attempt at love.

Change does not happen overnight, and that's okay.

* * *

Several months later, a meeting of world leaders converges upon the Fire Nation, ambassadors and chiefs and princesses all coming together for unity and further healing from the deep gouges left by the Hundred Year War.

It is the first time Katara has seen Zuko since he was crowned Fire Lord, and he is speaking to a group of men when he spots her. Excusing himself, he turns towards her, the smile on his face like sunshine aimed right at her soul. 

The excitement and happiness making her breathless are not the sort of warm, fond feelings you have for a dear friend. She knows this, but chooses to ignore it for now. 

For now, they are old friends, and she won't risk their relationship for some unresolved longing, probably born from the undeniable intrigue of wanting something—or someone—she can't have.

The kiss they'd shared at the celebration following his coronation was long ago, before she'd been with Aang, before she'd loved and lost, when she'd seen everything through the lens of victory and relief, and maybe they'd been simply caught up in the moment and the wonder of it all. 

They've both grown up, and besides that, she'd made her choice, and it hadn't been him.

She wishes it were different, wishes she had another chance to go for what she truly wanted, not what was safe.

And for all she knows, he already has someone to care about him, to care _for_ him. 

So she tries to push the confusing feelings down, pack them away for another time. And she almost succeeds.

But then he strides to her, beautiful in his gilded robes, damn him. His long hair is pulled up and fastened with his crown with a few stray pieces falling on his forehead that he attempts and fails to put back in their place. 

The slightly disheveled look is good on him, and strong is the urge to run her fingers through his hair and muss it up even more. She has to mentally give herself a shake, dissuading her from that notion.

They haven't even spoken yet and here she is ready to play with his hair like a lover.

_Get it together, Katara._

When he wraps his arms around her and holds her tight, she prays to the spirits that her feelings will stay in their neat, little box.

* * *

Over the next few days, she is in and out of meetings, sometimes seeing him across the table from her, sometimes just passing him in the hall on the way to the next event, and every time without fail, a shiver of awareness shakes her when their eyes meet.

The Summer Solstice happens to coincide with the conference, and it is a time of celebration for the citizens of the Fire Nation, with festivities leading late into the night.

After her last meeting of the day, she is heading back to her room when a hand flies out of a dark alcove, snatching her by the arm.

Her fingers are tensed and ready to pull water from the large vases lining the hall and sharpen them into daggers of ice, but the scent of woodsmoke and citrus envelopes her, and she relaxes.

"That was stupid. I almost skewered you."

His teeth gleam in the flickering torchlight. "But you didn't. I took a calculated risk."

The smile that tugs up the corners of her mouth is impossible to fight. "What do you want, oh great Fire Lord?" she asks, ending the sentence with a flourishing bow.

"Perhaps a moratorium on the sarcasm." He says it with a smirk that is almost a grin, and she feels warm all over despite standing in the coolness of the shadows.

"Please. Gotta have someone to keep that ego in check."

"If you're done keeping me humble, I have a proposition that might interest you."

Raising one eyebrow, she is unable to hide her curiosity. "Do tell."

* * *

That little thrill that comes from knowing she's doing something she ought not ignites in Katara's blood, firing her up.

They sneak out of the palace grounds through a wall of ancient trees hemming in a seldom used courtyard. The tree farthest to the left has gone to rot, hidden behind enough greenery to not have been spotted by the groundskeeper. It leaves _just_ enough space to slip through, and when they reemerge, she is staring down a grassy hillside, the sky inky black above her head. The city sprawls out at the bottom of the mountain, just as alive and happily chaotic as it had been before the moon rose. 

She can hear it as she follows a hooded figure down the hill towards the festivities.

In peacetime, there isn't major worry about attempts at Zuko's life, but he is a rather unforgettable figure, and if he'd strolled through the streets with her on his arm, they'd never be able to move around freely once they were spotted.

Tonight, he doesn't want to be king. He wants to take in the sights and celebrate the Solstice with his fellow countrymen.

And her. 

She's not sure how she feels that _she's_ the one he asked to go with him. Not Aang, not Sokka.

 _Her_.

He leads her through the street, deftly navigating the churning crowd.

The capitol city is buzzing, and Katara's attention splits in a dozen different directions. To the right is a woman with striking golden eyes juggling fire, and on the stage just ahead of them there is a troupe dressed in richly colored robes performing traditional dances. As they pass the stage and round the corner, a man with one eye calls out to them, entreating them to stop and have a look at his wares. Intricately carved statues full of detail and life decorate the booth, and Katara can't help herself from reaching out and sliding her fingers over the smooth, polished wings of a phoenix in flight, and the bumpy scales of a regal dragon.

The glossy finish of a small crescent moon draws her eye, and she scoops it up to hold in her palm.

There's an inscription on the back. She traces the grooves with her thumb.

_You are the light._

As she settles it back in its spot, a deep voice rumbles from beside her. The hooded cloak casts dark shadows over Zuko's face, concealing his identity. "How much for the moon?"

Her first instinct is to say no; if she wants something, she is perfectly capable of buying it herself.

But when she lifts her hand to protest, he catches it in his own and turns to look at her, his thumb running back and forth over her knuckles. "I want to do this for you. Please?" he asks softly, low enough that only she can hear him, and there is something in his voice, the strong, ringing truth of words meant earnestly, and she knows there are no strings.

So she heaves a dramatic sigh and says, "Fine _,_ if you _must."_ He smirks and shakes his head as he hands coins to the one-eyed man, and when Zuko grabs the wooden moon and places it in her hand, gently guiding her fingers to close around it, she can't help but smile. Though she can just barely make out his golden eyes under the hood, something passes between them in that moment, small and indefinable but indisputably there, and she starts to wonder if perhaps the feelings she's been trying to ignore are not one-sided after all.

* * *

For the next hour, they wander the streets, soaking up in the joyous atmosphere, the easy celebration of a country no longer at war.

When they pass some food vendors, she buys a deep scarlet drink that sparks at the top like a crackling fire, and they share it. 

It tastes like freedom.

Soon the sun will rise, and they need to get back to the palace before anyone realizes they've been gone, but they linger in the shadows at the end of one of the side streets, shoulder to shoulder with their backs against a worn wooden wall, just _existing_ together.

Something tugs at her like a plucked string in her chest, a sense of awareness that she can't fight, and when she turns her head, he is looking at her too, his face uncovered by the hood here in the dark.

His eyes are bright, burning, and she doesn't know who moves first, only that they come together, all at once.

His lips press against hers, soft and searching, so tender she could weep. They explore each other for a moment, his hands on her hips, hers resting on his shoulders.

The sweetness melts effortlessly into something with a bit more _heat_ and soon she wishes they were anywhere but here, somewhere she could slide her fingers over the firm body beneath her hands, somewhere she could trace the reminders of his fights to survive with her mouth, leaving kisses on all his scars.

And when he pulls back and says, "I want you, Katara. Need you. I have for a long time," she knows it's true.

She is no longer confined to the four walls of the box she'd been trapped in. She is free, and so is he, and something inside her stands up and cheers as they walk back to the palace, hand in hand.

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a drabble but got a bit out of hand, whoops. Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to know your thoughts. 
> 
> If you use tumblr, come say hello over there! You can find me @nuclearnik


End file.
